


marriage: take one

by Skyrogue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, last name by carrie underwood plays quietly int he distance, what happens in vegas does not - in fact - stay in vegas, wing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25380760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyrogue/pseuds/Skyrogue
Summary: anon request: "destiel, accidental marriage + wingfic, up to you whether you want explicit or not ^^" for my300 follower celebration!here you go!!find me ontumblrfor more destiel and spn content!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 109





	marriage: take one

Dean wakes with the worst headache he’s ever experienced. He’s pretty damn sure it didn’t hurt this much when he was clawed to shreds by hellhounds or when he crawled out of hell or the numerous times he’s been shot, stabbed, electrocuted, knocked out, and killed. His entire skull is throbbing like his brain is still throwing a rager as wild as the night before.

The night before, of course, is almost a complete blackout. It was Sam’s brilliant fucking idea to vacation in Vegas during a lull in monster hunting and while Dean had been a little on the fence about it, Cas was on board, telling the brothers he needed lessons in gambling. Dean figured, _what the hell_ , and packed up to drive them all the way there. And now, he is filled with nothing but pain and regret.

He hasn’t even opened his eyes yet and it’s still way too bright for his head to tolerate. He has no idea where he is, but he’s fairly sure he’s naked and laying on a lumpy mattress with rough sheets and a thick comforter covering him just from neck to waist. _Motel,_ his brain supplies him with. _You’re in a motel._

That would make sense, except Sam wanted to splurge on a four star hotel because _we’re vacationing, Dean, live a little_. They got a 1,300 square foot suite with three bedrooms on the 26th floor of a casino hotel. Their beds were queen size pillow-top mattresses with towels folded into swans and their mini-fridge was filled with alcohol and there is absolutely _no_ reason why he should be on a lumpy bed with scratchy sheets and listening to an AC cough and whir out half-warm air.

There’s movement on the bed. Fuck, of course, he probably found some broad and wanted to get her alone and checked in to some dingy room for the night when he should have been spending time with his brother and . . . best friend. Who he wanted to talk to about not being best friends anymore.

Or, rather, still being best friends, but more in the _I love you and want to kiss you way._

He’s gotta find Cas. Who knows who the hell he hooked up with and whether or not Cas knows about it. He doesn’t want to give him the wrong idea right before confessing to years of repressed pining. He didn’t want to hook up with anyone last night, less it be Cas himself. He remembers the beginning of the night starting out at the casino downstairs from their hotel suite and teaching Cas how to play Texas hold ‘em and laughing at Cas for not understanding what a poker face was and telling Dean that cheating and lying were wrong. Dean moved Cas on to the slots and spent more time staring at his profile from the machine next to him than actually pulling the lever.

He had this whole plan. Show Cas a good time on their first night in the city, get drunk and win a little money, and then go to breakfast the next morning for Bloody Mary’s and maybe a long conversation about their relationship. He did _not_ plan to bang a rando.

He probably didn’t even bang her. He was definitely too drunk last night, there’s no way he could have gotten it up. Not that it would matter if Cas found out. How could he even explain that? _Yeah, I’m totally in love with you, never mind that faceless girl I hooked up with last night. But don’t worry, I had whiskey dick so we probably didn’t have sex._

That conversation is going to go _super_ well.

The body next to his rustles around a little more and groans low. Really low. Like, lower than most guys he knows. Something tickles against Dean’s neck.

“Dean?” the body rasps, followed by a short coughing fit.

Oh shit.

Oh _shit_.

That is not just some girl or a random body. That’s _Cas_ next to him in bed. Angel of the fucking Lord, _Cas_.

Dean squints his eyes open to the morning light streaming in past the thin curtains and scratches at his neck. It's way too bright and he’s hotter than hell, no doubt sweating out everything he drank last night thanks to the broken AC and the July heat and the heavy as hell blanket over him.

“Cas?” The light is becoming a little more bearable but his sight is blurry. The blanket is black as the night and Dean spots Cas’s dark head of hair poking out from under it. “What the hell happened last night?”

Cas shifts and his face becomes visible. He’s squinting even harder than usual. “I . . . I don’t know. I just remember drinking and—” His brows furrow. “You told me something. It was important. Why can’t I remember?”

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Dean did not want to tell Cas while he was drunk for many reasons, but this one being numero uno. He doesn’t know what he said or how Cas responded or what was decided.

_But you woke up with him, didn’t you?_

Dean rubs his eyes long and hard, like maybe that will bring back the memories. “That’s what alcohol does, it makes you forget.”

Cas pauses, and then the blanket is pulled up. “Dean, we don’t have any clothes on.”

He shouldn’t, but he pulls his hand away from his eyes to peak one open. Lo and behold, Cas is also wearing a birthday suit. Mostly everything is hidden, save for the curve of his ass. He’s a belly sleeper, of course he is.

And to top it all off, that black blanket that was tickling his neck is less blanket and more _wings_. Sharp yet soft dark feathers that move and breathe with Cas, hot and heavy and huge. He reaches up to run his fingers through the fluff in front of his face.

A small sound escapes Cas’s mouth. Not quite a moan, but louder than a sigh. Dean glances at him.

“They must have come out last night,” Cas explains. “It takes a great deal of effort to keep them hidden and sometimes, when I lose control, they appear.”

That sort of makes sense. Cas almost looks embarrassed about it.

“Did we . . . last night?”

Cas blinks a few times. “I don’t think so. It’s to my knowledge that humans have difficulty maintaining an erection and achieving orgasm while intoxicated. But it looks as if we may have . . . tried.”

“Fuck,” Dean whispers. He scrubs a hand down his face.

Cas’s face drops from confused to emotionless. “I understand this is not ideal.” His voice is hard as he avoids Dean’s eyes. “I’ll get dressed.”

Cas pulls himself up and sits at the edge of the bed, his wings folding up and around his body like he’s trying to hide. His wings are massive, no doubt they could take up the entire room if he spread them out. Still, he looks so small and fragile.

“Cas . . .” Dean reaches out to the hand closest to him and grasps it. Cas tries to shake off his hand, but Dean tightens his grip to get his attention. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s fine, Dean.” Cas reaches over with his left hand to remove Dean’s hold on him and stops. Stares at their hands for a long moment. Tilts his head.

“Cas?”

Cas looks back at Dean, eyes wide, and holds up his left hand. A thin silver band is attached to his ring finger.

“I think we got married.”

* * *

Sam found the incident _hilarious_. When Dean and Cas located most of their clothes (Cas was still missing a sock and Dean had lost his watch somewhere along the way) and Cas regained enough composure to put his wings away, they awkwardly made their way back to the hotel room and told Sam the news. Sam had laughed about it for nearly five minutes straight. Dean had gone red in the face and locked himself in his room for the rest of the day.

Cas didn’t take it so well. Dean had barely spoken to him since he announced their new marriage status and avoided him as much as possible. Even when they got back to the bunker, Dean spent most of his time either chasing anything that smelled even remotely like a hunt or keeping to himself in his room.

Not that Cas didn’t try. They might never know what happened that night in Vegas, but Cas would be damned if they didn’t at least talk about it. Most of his attempts were met with grunts or shakes of the head.

He didn’t want to ask Dean if he wants an annulment but he didn’t want to stay legally married to someone who won’t talk to him. He had waited for the day that he and Dean might become something more, and now that they are way more than Cas ever dreamed of, Dean wants nothing to do with him.

So he waited. He was patient and kind whenever he saw Dean. He spent a lot of time in the kitchen and library because Dean was bound to pass through one of those rooms at least daily. Instead of talking about what happened, he asked Dean how he slept, if he was having a good day, what he was cooking.

Dean’s grunts turned into actual answers after a few days. He still couldn't hold a whole conversion, but he started meeting Cas’s eyes. Sometimes he would look down at the ring Cas hadn’t taken off yet.

Dean catches Cas in the hallway sometime after midnight about two weeks after returning home. Cas is freshly showered, still in a robe and slippers, hair damp.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been talking to you,” Dean says. “This whole thing has just been really . . . confusing. I just needed time to think.”

Cas isn’t sure how to respond, so he nods instead. The only thing he’s been confused about is the way Dean distanced himself afterward. His feelings for Dean haven’t changed.

“I was really hoping that when we finally got together, we could actually remember it and it wouldn’t feel like such a mistake.”

The word squeezes Cas’s heart tight. “Was it? A mistake?”

Dean’s hand finds Cas’s, and he runs his thumb over the ring. “More like a happy accident.”

Cas tilts his head. He was under the impression that ‘happy accidents’ are what people call their unplanned pregnancies.

“Sure, it didn’t happen the way that we wanted and we can’t remember anything, but I’ve been in love with you for years. I was planning on telling you while we were in Vegas so that maybe we could be more than just friends.”

Cas’s eyes widened at the idea. With the way Dean had been acting since their accidental marriage, he figured that Dean regretted the whole ordeal. He figured Dean wanted to undo it and forget it ever happened. There’s a phrase Dean had said to him right when they passed the Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas sign: _What happens here, stays here, got it?_

“Mission accomplished, I guess,” Dean awkwardly chuckles. He rubs at the back of his neck. “If it were up to me, I’d say let’s just stay married. But that’s just what I want. What do you want, Cas?”

What the hell _does_ he want? He wants everything. He wants the boyfriend experience and the date nights and the tangle of limbs and the cooking breakfast together. He wants to ask Dean to marry him with a grand gesture that they’ll both tell strangers about for years to come. He wants to marry Dean in a suit with their friends and family and take pictures to hang on the walls of the bunker. He wants to do everything _right_.

He’s not sure how to articulate all of that to Dean, so he takes it one step at a time. First order of business: “I want a divorce.”

Dean’s face falls. He pulls his hand away from Cas’s gently and stares at Cas’s shoulder instead of meeting his eyes. “Right. Okay, we can . . . do that.”

Dean’s getting the wrong idea. That’s not what Cas intended. He steps forward and pulls Dean’s chin down just enough to press their mouths together. Dean hesitates before kissing him back, but when he does, it’s more than Cas ever imagined.

 _This_ is what he wants. This first kiss, their first date, their first time in bed. He’s sure they did those things in Vegas, or some drunken version of them, but he wants them for real. He knows they did those things, but he wants to experience them for the first time and remember for the rest of his life.

He pulls away to look at the surprise in Dean’s expression. “I want a divorce. And then I want to marry you all over again.”


End file.
